


Enamored

by ely_ely



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Morally Ambiguous Sirius Black, No Underage Sex with Adult, Older Man/Younger Woman, Slow Burn, Underage Flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29567721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ely_ely/pseuds/ely_ely
Summary: From the moment he met her, he knew they were tied together by fate. That she belonged to him. And Sirius protected what was his.AU - Lord Sirius Black released early from Azkaban with the aid of Lucius Malfoy. Sirius raises Harry. AU and retelling of all the books from Hermione and Sirius’s perspectives.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Hermione Granger, Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 182





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Starting a new work for my enjoyment. Let me know your thoughts to the prologue! This will help set up the story, the next chapter will be a time jump. I estimate this story will be around 50 chapters. The story is meant to have a bit of a “Phantom of the Opera” or Bronte feel to it but I might not be capable of writing such an intricate balance of dark romance.
> 
> Updates will be sporadic for awhile but I wanted to gauge interest. I may circle back at some point to make edits. Explicit rating is for much later scenes. This is incredibly slow-burn.
> 
> Lastly, there is a nod to the Hunger Games in this chapter, see if you find it!

_Azkaban_

_June 1982_

_Tap. Tap._

The cane mimicked the rhythm of Lucius’s heart as he walked through the damp stone corridor, ignoring the rotting stench and voices of insanity echoing off the walls. Both the cane and Malfoy Manor were passed to him upon his acquittal. Soon after his trial ended, Lucius’s father, Abraxas, retired to a Malfoy estate in France, passing the head of house title to his son.

_Tap. Tap_.

Lucius didn’t know what to expect as he walked to the single cell at the end of the hall. This section of Azkaban was for the most heinous criminals; those least deserving of a soul. Even though the dementors were on a different level for the length of the visit, Lucius could still feel their chill. Out of those who could have ended up in this place, Sirius Black was the last person Lucius would have imagined. He was too much of a bloody Gryffindor.

Lucius did not want to be here, visiting his wife’s cousin. They had agreed, however, that protecting their pureblood family, what little of it was left, was more important than past grievances. This care did not extend to Bellatrix or those so greatly consumed by their lust for any mud-bitch’s blood. He and Narcissa wanted to help those who might help them in return. Someone who could help restore their image of being respectable members of wizarding society.

They were taking a risk. If the Dark Lord returned and saw they had befriended the best friend of James Potter, he would destroy them. On the other hand, if Sirius really _was_ a loyal servant to the Dark Lord, then they couldn’t allow him to continue to languish in prison. Regardless, wizarding law clearly stated that any pureblood could not be sent to Azkaban without a trial before the Wizengamot. Dumbledore had clearly overstepped his power by sending Black here and Lucius was damned if he would let Dumbledore win anything. As Lucius walked, he felt something soft and slimy stick to the bottom of his shoe. He tried to kick it off but it insisted on being dragged along in its putrid misery.

_Tap. Tap._

Lucius reached the cell door, nodding at the guard to open it. He immediately covered his face with a rose-scented handkerchief as the stink of decay and human filth wafted through the opening. As he entered the tiny, windowless room, he had to stop and gather himself before he vomited or passed out. The floor was covered in bits of meat in various stages of decay. Moldy bread was littered around, pieces smashed and softened in puddles of piss.

“ _Lumos_.” Holding up his wand, Lucius saw Sirius Black, huddled in the darkest, furthest corner of his miserable pit. Slowly, Black’s gaze drifted up towards the light, his eyes blinking rapidly to distill the brightness. His eyes and lips were swollen with what looked like infection and the result of a recent beating. His beard had grown into a wild bush below his chin, filled with various bits of rotting meat. Lucius shuddered. He remembered Black as a rather conceited, vain boy. This man wasn’t the Sirius Black he remembered. That man was dead.

~~

Sirius looked up to the light, painfully blinked his eyes and wondered if he was dreaming. After what could have been months or years or just days, he felt numb and barely lucid. The decay of the dark cell matched the state of his soul. Empty, rotting, and putrid. He deserved to sleep and wake in his own shit, surrounded by the stench of rotten meat, dry blood, and piss. His best friend was dead because of him. He deserved nothing more than to die, soulless and void in this dank hole.

“Sirius Black.” He recognized the voice. It was that pretty blonde ponce who married his cousin. “Was it you?” He didn’t know what Lucius Malfoy was doing with his delicate sensibilities in this shit-hole and he didn’t care. “Sirius Black,” Lucius continued, louder. “Was it you who killed the Potters?” Sirius turned his head away, leaning against the rough wall. He felt a tear slowly trickle down his face. The time in Azkaban had been spent equal parts numb and emotional. It was like the gods themselves were mocking him now, having an acquitted Death Eater visit him in his cell to remind him of his sin.

He heard Lucius sigh and turn away. The cell door closed again with a final _thud_. He listened to Lucius’s cane _tap tap_ him away through puddles of water and human excrement. Sirius knew he would die here and no longer cared.

_Dumbledore’s Office, Hogwarts_

_Late June 1982_

“Enter.” Dumbledore’s voice had not changed over the years. Still authoritative with a mix of odd whimsy, as if he were daring the world to call him out on his lie of being a kindly old man. Lucius hated the man, not least because of the way he never seemed to need to make a choice; good or bad, light or dark. The self-righteous man who manipulated and used former students as pawns in his game, pretending he was innocent of their blood.

Lucius chose to stand in front of Dumbledore, simply raising an eyebrow when offered a sweet. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Lucius?” Another manipulative tactic; by addressing former students in a patronizing way he further enforced the idea of his omniscient authority. Lucius was having none of it, looking him in the eye as he began.

“I had an interesting conversation with a ministry barrister, Albus.” Dumbledore tilted his head. “It seems as if Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban without a trial. Which, I’m sure you are aware as a member of the Wizengamot, is illegal. And suspicious.” Dumbledore’s eyes began to narrow.

Lucius began to walk around the room, glancing at Dumbledore’s various humming and whirling contraptions, nodding at portraits of former headmasters. “I’m sure you enjoy your position as Headmaster of Hogwarts, don’t you Albus?” He picked up an old book and began flipping the pages. “You love this position of authority. The mastermind, always behind the scenes, advancing his agenda through hapless children.” Dumbledore was visibly angry, his mouth in a firm line and fists clenched on top of his desk.

“As head of the school’s board of governors, I would hate for you to lose that position on the technicality of sending an innocent man to prison.” Lucius shut the book and placed it back down. Dumbledore was visibly shaking and slowly opened his mouth, speaking in a low tone. “Are you threatening me, Malfoy?”

Lucius smiled. “Of course not, Albus. I haven’t given you a choice.” Lucius turned to face the headmaster fully. “You see, as soon as the barrister mentioned this unfortunate, _error_ , I owled the ministry to set it right immediately. Along with a sizable donation, of course.” Smirking, Lucius leaned over Dumbledore’s desk and continued, “the trial is in two weeks. I expect a favorable outcome.” Lucius turned away, leaving Dumbledore red-faced at his desk.

_The Wizengamot_

_Mid-July 1982_

Sirius sat in the chair staring at the empty stand. _Innocent_. The word rang in his head. _We find Sirius Black innocent of all charges_.

The chains holding him to the chair had been removed. The chill of the dementors overhead was gone. He was free. Through his mental fog, he saw Dumbledore watching him from the side looking vaguely upset. _Why?_ _Why did Dumbledore want him rotting in Azkaban?_

Sirius was too numb to seek an answer to his question and continued vaguely staring around him. _What now?_ He looked down at himself. He hadn’t been given the chance to clean himself up before attending his own trial. Bits of dried meat and vomit clung to his beard and clothes, shit and dirt still under his fingernails. Sirius closed his eyes in humiliation, wanting nothing more than to escape.

Escape back to Azkaban. Escape back to his childhood. Escape back to a time when he had a family. He likely no longer had a home since he doubted Remus stuck around in the apartment of a supposed traitor.

He felt tears slowly welling in his eyes and squeezed them tight, hoping to at least hold on to some kind of dignity.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he looked up to see Lucius Malfoy. Behind him stood Narcissa, holding a small sleeping tot with white-blonde hair, trying her best not to look repulsed by the dirty man in front of her. Lucius began talking to him, something about Grimmauld Place and the Black family properties and vaults. Sirius tried to pay attention and piece everything together.

“Sirius, do you understand?” Lucius looked inquiringly at him. Sirius shook his head in confusion.

“We are taking you to Malfoy Manor,” he nodded slightly to Narcissa, who gave Sirius a tight smile. “Since you likely need a place to stay and I do not know if any of your,” Lucius grimaced, “ _friends_ are available, you may stay with us until your property and guardianship have been restored.”

Sirius nodded and stood up to follow behind the Malfoys. The tiny child on Narcissa’s shoulder had woken up and was watching him with wide, grey eyes. Sirius didn’t have the heart to smile at him after failing his own godson. He had no desire to smile at all, anymore.

_Black Manor, Yorkshire_

_15 August 1982_

_8:00 am_

Sirius stood near one of the great windows in his front hall, watching the dust motes languidly float across the sunbeams. Although he had worked late into the night to prepare the nursery for the arrival of his godson, he had been up for hours, as soon as the sun hit his eyes, anxiously waiting for the arrival of Harry.

After his release from Azkaban and pardon by the Wizengamot, Lucius had been instrumental in pressing Dumbledore for Harry’s return to his godfather. The Malfoy lord had hired an investigator to check in on little Harry and found him shoved in a tiny closet below the stairs of his aunt’s Petunia’s home. Both Lucius and Sirius were livid and barely restrained themselves from rushing into the small neighborhood and setting fire to the muggle home.

They each had their reasons for bringing Harry home. Lucius, Sirius suspected, was more concerned about Harry’s natural magical prowess and the promise of future alliances. Sirius, though, had lost his pack. Harry was the only child of his best friend and all that remained of his chosen family. He had to do his best by James and Lily and keep them together.

Sirius was still trying to contact Remus but had yet to receive any reply, although he had been sighted in Hogsmeade, so he knew Remus was at least aware of his release. But the closed trial before the Wizengamot wasn’t doing him any favors towards his friend, nor were the details of his release. The Wizengamot had not even asked about his betrayal or Peter’s involvement. His release was based on the lack of a trial and his position as a pureblood. He doubted anyone sane would believe him to actually be innocent without proof of Peter’s betrayal.

Regardless of Remus’s mistrust, Sirius had access to his friend’s Gringotts account and had started a monthly deposit from one of the Black accounts as soon as he was able to walk into Diagon Alley. Whether Remus used it or not, Sirius would do everything he could to take care of his friend. The Black money might as well be used for something good, for once.

After Sirius’s initial imprisonment, his paternal grandfather, Arcturus Black III, died. In what must have been a fit of pureblood insanity, he left Black Manor and all other entailed properties to his imprisoned grandson. Imprisonment was almost worth it to know how distressed this entailment must have made Walburga. Sirius had kindly released Grimmauld Place to his parents, knowing he would never step foot in that miserable infestation again.

Along with the entailment of all Black properties came access to Black vaults and control over the family seat in the Wizengamot. After long, late night discussions with Lucius, Sirius had also accepted a position on the Hogwarts board of governors, something Lucius insisted would help him better protect Harry once he reached school-age.

Although Sirius was grateful for the Malfoys’ sudden acceptance and protection of him, he kept Lucius at a bit of a distance. Sirius doubted Lucius’s loyalties went further than his own family and any business holdings or pureblood delusions. Lucius had never taken kindly to his betrayal of befriending the Potters or Remus.

Sirius felt more than heard the arrival of Harry by floo. He had been standing in the shadows, only near the sunlight, all morning. As if wanting to see the light but feeling unworthy of its grace. Suddenly pushing through his reverie, he felt Harry’s presence, a feeling of warmth and joy suddenly stealing into his soul.

Sirius turned towards the open fireplace and saw an auror, accompanied by Dumbledore himself, step through, bent over holding onto the tiny hand of a toddling, miniature James Potter. Everything seemed to freeze as Harry tilted his head in confusion, looking at the strange man who had tears in his eyes. Although Harry did not consciously remember more than his Aunt Petty giving him cold tea and dry toast that morning for breakfast, he felt a subconscious pull towards the man.

Toddling closer, Harry let out a small squeal of surprise and toddled over to Sirius as quickly as he could, holding up his thin arms to be picked up by his “Pa’foo!” Sirius knelt down to pick up the smallest member of his pack and held him tight to his heart as uncontrolled tears fell down his face.

He barely heard the whispers of Dumbledore and the auror but felt a firm hand rest on his shoulder. “We will leave you two alone to get reacquainted. An auror will be checking in on you at the end of the month to ensure a successful transition for Harry.”

Sirius ignored the fierce rage pouring through him at Dumbledore’s words, as if the man gave two fucks about Harry’s well-being. Hearing the two men depart through the floo, Sirius pulled away from Harry and knelt down in front of him.

Harry’s tiny hands came up to ungracefully smack at Sirius’s tears. “No cwy, Pa’foo! No cwy!”

Sirius let out a breath, cleared his throat, and looked at the young boy. “Alright Prongslet, are you ready for an adventure?”

Sirius had found his reason to live.


	2. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so thrilled that so many people are enjoying this story!!! *screams internally*
> 
> My plan for updates is going to be every two weeks, with the random one week thrown in (like this one). I might be late or miss some times due to health complications, but feel free to comment and ask.
> 
> If anyone is interested in working as my beta on this monster, or just wants to talk about the story, send me a message on tumblr! I’m at hibiscusjasminetea.
> 
> I’ve added a Pinterest board for the story: https://pin.it/7l2ennW

_September 19, 1990_

The tiny eleven year old limped behind the tree at the end of her street, hoping not to be seen by her parents or classmates. Looking down at her knees and hands, she pushed some sweaty curls behind her ear in frustration. The periwinkle birthday ribbons her mother had placed in her hair that morning were lost.

She hated school. Long ago she had learned to keep her hand down in class, even if she knew the answer. It was so frustrating to watch the other students struggle through an answer when it was apparent to her. She’d already read all of her textbooks ahead of time so spent most of the time staring out the window. What she wouldn’t give for a challenge, for something...interesting.

The simple curriculum wasn’t her only frustration, however. The other children mocked her constantly for her overly-large teeth, her frizzy curls, and the fact that she preferred reading and asking teachers questions to further her knowledge rather than play. It didn’t help that the teachers mostly ignored her questions, preferring to talk to each other rather than answer the never-ending questions of an overly curious eleven year old.

That day, one of her teachers, in a well-intentioned effort to encourage her to make friends on her birthday, had taken away her books and forced her to go outside and play.

The shy girl, unused to such social interactions, tried to walk up to a group of girls on the swings. Rather than allow her to join them, they laughed at her hair and mocked her teeth.

Glaring down at the warm asphalt and kicking a small rock, the young girl did her best to blink away the tears forming.

But one other student saw her tears and began laughing at her even harder. The young girl felt her fists clench as something angry and powerful surged inside of her. She heard a scream and looked up quickly, to see one of the girls on the swings fly off, as if she’d been tossed, landing crookedly on her ankle.

All of the other students ran to the fallen child, circling her in an unhelpful group of bystanders. As a teacher ran over to the commotion, one student pointed to the odd girl, who had pragmatically taken a swing, seeing that it was now empty.

The teacher shook her head, helping the hurt student up and quickly ushered her inside. Teachers had long since learned to ignore the oddities and small accidents surrounding the girl. Addressing the issue would lead to questions none of them were prepared to ask.

One by one, the other students turned and looked at the girl with the wild hair and periwinkle ribbons swinging alone on the swing set.

The little girl, meanwhile, felt _free_ and alive. Leaning back, she let her hair swing behind her as she swung higher and higher, feeling like she could touch the sky if she went high enough.

A sudden pull on her ribbons brought her back down from her dreams as she felt herself yanked off the swing and onto the hard ground. Tears filled her eyes as she grabbed at the hands holding on to her thick curls; she could feel that some strands had been crudely ripped out. She tried to pull her hair back and managed to almost stand up until other students started pushing her back to the ground.

When she was finally able to pull her hair free, she began to run towards the teachers, leaving her beloved ribbons behind. The students nearby kept pushing her, taunting her as being a “freak” and a “witch.” 

Before reaching her teachers, she fell over another student’s leg after they ran ahead to trip her. The students suddenly dispersed as a teacher walked up to her. The little girl looked up at the adult with tears streaming down her face, trying to sniff up the thick snot that had begun running out of her nose. Her hands and legs were stinging and her stockings torn, her hair in terrible disarray.

The teacher looked down over her nose at the young girl, sniffed, and immediately walked away, calling over her shoulder to the rest of the class to return inside. The children passed by the girl, laughing and whispering, still throwing names her way as they passed by her.

The girl hung her head in shame, wishing for all the world to be somewhere else. Somewhere she might belong.

Later that day, as she hid behind the tree, mourning her fate in the world, the young girl had little knowledge of how her life was about to change. She looked hard at her hands and feet, willing them to heal. Nothing happened. With a huff, she glared harder.

Another thing she hated - not understanding something and being out of control. She didn’t understand these “powers” she had, only that she had them.

Sometime around her toddlerhood, as her parents told her, she demanded a cookie before dinner. Her parents refused, reminding her that she could have a cookie after dinner. Her mother took the box of cookies and placed them on a high counter, away from the girl’s wandering fingers.

Turning around to check dinner on the stove, the mother heard a small _thud_ and tiny gasp. Assuming the worst, she quickly turned back around to find her two year old daughter sitting on the floor with the box of cookies in hand and two cookies already shoved into her tiny mouth. Looking around, the woman didn’t see a stool or chair or anything that would allow the small toddler to reach the cookies. Hesitantly, she took the box back from the young girl and held out her hand to spit out the rest.

The “cookie incident” ended, but over the following nine years stranger things continued to happen to the young girl, things less easily dismissed. Lights turning on and off, the girl’s toys dancing in the air like a small circus.

Her parents, being reasonable and logical people, decided that the simplest explanation was the most likely and that their daughter somehow, in some way, had... _powers_. They, like most people, were hesitant to even whisper the _M-_ _word_.

The girl had, of course, done her research. According to all of the literature she had read, from _The Chronicles of Narnia_ to _The Lord of the Rings_ , the answer was resounding: _magic_. She didn’t know how she had it. Maybe she fell out of another world, like Narnia, that happened to have magic? Perhaps a fairy had “blessed” her with a gift upon birth? Perhaps it was genetics (but watching her parents and family closely yielded no results; they clearly were not magical)? She had no idea of the why.

The most frustrating part was being unable to control it. She didn’t know any spells and those in her books didn’t work. The best she knew to do was look and wish strongly for something to happen. It didn’t work every time.

In this case, it had absolutely no effect. Her knees were still bleeding and her hands still scraped. Her bright blue ribbons still missing.

She stomped her feet in anger and let out a frustrated growl. Picking up her school bag, she walked heavily towards her home, trying to think of an excuse for why she was coming home with even more scrapes and bruises.

Her parents always seemed disappointed when she came home a mess. It wasn’t as if she wanted to be bullied. She just didn’t know how to fit in, even though she tried her best.

The girl walked up to her front door, turned the handle and pushed. As she came inside, she pulled off her shoes, set down her bag, and called out, “mum, dad, I’m home!” At least she had a cake and gifts to look forward to after her awful day.

She heard the clink of tea cups but no voices. Strange. Walking slowly down the hallway, she turned into her family’s den and began again, “mum, dad...”

The girl froze. A stranger was having tea with her parents, who were both moving almost robotically. The stranger stood up with a smile on her wrinkled face, and turned toward the disheveled girl with a Scottish brogue.

“Ah, Ms. Hermione Granger. What a pleasure it is to finally meet you!” The woman stood primly, hands clasped in front of her, small glasses perched on the edge of her nose. Her dress - costume - _robes?_ were a dark maroon. On her head a matching, pointy hat. _Like a witch_ , the girl thought.

“My name is Minerva McGonagall and I am a professor and the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

“Pardon me,” the shocked girl politely forced out, “you’re a _witch_?” The older woman smiled warmly at the wide-eyed girl and nodded. “As are you, which is what brings me here today.”

Hermione promptly fainted.

~~~~~

Hermione blinked her eyes, slowly noticing the light and faces surrounding her. Her mother stood over her, gently calling her name and brushing a hand across her forehead. Hermione inhaled the comforting scent of her mother’s lavender soap.

She’d just had the oddest dream, that a witch from a place called _Hogwarts_ had come to speak with her. Hermione thought maybe she had come to take her away to a magical school. She sighed, wishing the dream could be real.

Her mother slowly helped her sit up and pushed a glass of water into her hand, urging her to drink. As Hermione slowly sipped, she looked about the room and saw, once again, the odd older woman, _Professor McGonagall_ , she reminded herself, sitting in an opposite armchair.

Hermione placed the glass down on the small table near her and turned toward the woman. “Professor McGonagall,” she began, trying to simultaneously brush down her bushy hair with a shaking hand. “You are a professor at the school Hogwarts?” Professor McGonagall nodded. “Am I to attend the school?”

The older woman smiled, clearly pleased at the girl’s quick uptake. “Yes, my dear. I have brought your acceptance letter and a list of supplies for incoming first years.”

“How can I be accepted by a school which I have not applied to?” Hermione looked over the letter her mother passed to her in confusion.

“Your name has been recorded since your birth, my dear.” McGonagall smiled again. “All children born with magic, even those born to muggles - non-wizarding folk, are automatically included in the list.”

“It updates itself magically?” Hermione poised her next question, feeling an infinite number of new questions on the tip of her tongue. As McGonagall answered she felt herself soaring inside. _Finally_. Finally a place where she belonged, a place where she could be herself.

Hermione could not wait.

~~~~

_Diagon Alley_

_August 15, 1991_

Sirius looked around the magical street, annoyed by the overly large crowd. He had specifically chosen to bring Harry to Diagon Alley earlier in the month and on a Friday to avoid the crowds. It seemed other families had the same idea. Glancing down at his pocket watch, he noted he still had a few hours before his meeting with Lucius that evening. Hopefully the crowd wouldn’t detain them too long.

_Next year plan better, Padfoot_ , he thought. Looking for Harry around the numerous shoppers, he finally found the young boy’s messy hair sticking up in front of the Quality Quidditch Supplies storefront, nose pressed to the glass, eyes wide at the newest model of the Nimbus. Sirius snorted. He would never understand how James had won Lily over with that hair.

Maneuvering through the crowd and avoiding the odd female and male perusal, he caught up to Harry. “You know first-years aren’t allowed a broom, Harry.” He smirked at Harry’s frown. “But we’ll make an exception for holidays at home.”

Sirius wished James could be here for this, that he could be the one standing with his son as he purchased his first wand. _I’m sorry, James._

Sirius grasped Harry’s shoulder and gently nudged him away from the window, nodding in the direction of Ollivanders. “Let’s find your wand, Prongslet.”

As Sirius walked beside Harry toward the store, listening to Harry’s excited ramble about his upcoming year at Hogwarts and Gryffindor, he glanced around at the crowd. Most of the wizarding world had learned to stay clear of young Harry Potter or else face the wrath of Lord Black. The occasional person would still stop and stare in awe at Harry until they received a pointed glare from Sirius.

Additionally, Sirius found more lustful glances sent his way, from both men and women alike. He supposed he understood. Although his short stint in Azkaban permanently etched fine wrinkles around his eyes and a dark aura into his demeanor, he was still the picture of pureblood aristocracy.

He had fought against it, at first. Although acceptant of the governor’s position at Hogwarts and even his seat on the Wizengamot, he never wanted to be a member of the pureblood elite. It was something he detested, much like he detested the simpering people who sought to obtain his favor or fancy.

He learned early on, though, that there was much power to be had at his disposal if he played the game. Power that could protect Harry and even Remus, that damned bastard who never wrote back.

Sirius was finally able to put his Black name and wealth to good use, providing Harry with a safe home and childhood and pushing forward legislation to protect the rights of werewolves. Wherever Remus was, Sirius hoped his legislation had at least provided him better legal protections in his place of employment.

And while, in the privacy of their estate, Sirius tinkered on his motorcycle and preferred to dress in old jeans and an oil stained t-shirt, in public he looked every bit the sneering Lord of an ancient and most noble family, with slicked back hair and finely tailored robes. Only his family ring followed him in both worlds.

Wealth and an aristocratic manner meant power. Power meant protection for the ones he loved; his pack. He reminded himself of this every time he felt the urge to change into his animagus form and run off forever into the wild. Which was often. 

He was thankful his family at least did not pass along a ridiculous cane like the Malfoys to show off their line of power. Sirius didn’t think he could stand being such a pretentious prick.

As they neared Ollivanders, he winked at a pretty young witch who blushed his way. Sirius had had his fair share of quiet affairs but had not yet found someone with whom he could stand to forever settle. And he felt he still had time; James and Lily had followed in the wizarding world’s ridiculously outdated steps of marrying straight out of Hogwarts. He supposed it was hard to blame them with a war on.

Upon reaching the shop, he noticed McGonagall stepping out, leading a pair of muggle parents and their young charge to their next destination. He caught McGonagall’s eye and winked, “Minnie, what a delight to see your fair face this morning!”

McGonagall rolled her eyes before sighing in feigned grievance, “Mr. Black, your manners still have room for improvement.” She turned down towards Harry, her face softening for a moment. “Mr. Potter, I look forward to seeing you at school this term.”

Harry nodded briefly, his attention quickly retaken by the nearby shop and the excitement of purchasing his first wand.

Sirius nodded to the muggle parents and small girl dressed in muggle attire, hardly taking notice of her wide eyes and bushy curls, before entering the store behind Harry.

~~~~

Hermione was so incredibly excited she could barely breathe, much less stand still, to the great annoyance of her parents (whose eyes had not yet shrunk down to their normal size). Professor McGonagall had met them earlier that morning and floo’d them through their temporarily connected fireplace to the Leaky Cauldron in London, where she led them to Diagon Alley to purchase supplies for her first year at Hogwarts.

It had been almost a year since the older witch had arrived at her home with news of Hogwarts. Since the woman had patiently answered Hermione’s many questions and, upon the curious girl’s request to see magic performed, shown her a simple spell to heal her scrapes and mend her stockings.

Hermione’s curious mind did not stop when the professor took her leave. Professor McGonagall gave her a non-magical, _muggle_ , address to send letters and questions. Apparently it was an address for muggle parents to be able to write to their children in Hogwarts without the need of an owl.

Professor McGonagall must have become annoyed with the many stuffed envelopes filled with stacks of paper cramped with hundreds of tiny, hand-written questions, for she eventually sent Hermione a number of books to read on wizarding history.

Unfortunately, Hermione’s early birthday meant she had to keep attending her primary school with all of this new knowledge. Because her teachers were already so eager to ignore her, they hardly noticed her new absent-minded behaviors.

Most days Hermione felt like she would burst with excitement. Other days she was convinced it was all a dream, only to rush to her nightstand and pull out the quickly worn letter of acceptance from the deputy headmistress.

Now, after almost a year of waiting, she was finally seeing the wizarding world in person.

Although she realized she stuck out like a sore thumb in her jeans and jumper among the myriad robes and pointy hats, she felt a thrum of fate as she held her wand for the first time and looked around at her future friends, family, and colleagues. _This was her world_. She _belonged_.

Hermione giggled quietly at the encounter Professor McGonagall had with what must have been a former student and his son. The man looked every bit an old-money aristocrat, with his tailored robes, signet ring, and handsome, powerful demeanor.

But as soon as he saw his former instructor, his face quickly changed into one of a trouble-maker.

A casual smile that knew it could get out of trouble and wink that likely left most women faint in the knees. Professor McGonagall’s annoyed huff and reply was enough to show she had a soft spot for the man and would likely have one for his son, although she was confused by the differing last names. Perhaps adopted son?

Before Hermione could solve the mystery as she watched the backs of the man and boy disappear into Ollivander’s, she heard the Professor mention books. Letting out a delighted squeal, she skipped to rejoin her parents across the cobbled street.


	3. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning is a bit gruesome/possibly disturbing. See end notes for TW.
> 
> I only edited this briefly, apologies for any grammar mistakes or confusion!
> 
> Next update in two weeks (or sooner! It’s Spring Break!)

_September 1, 1990, 5:00 am_

_Black Manor_

_As the guards dragged Sirius screaming through the corridors of Azkaban, he felt a freezing touch sweep across his face, grab hold of his legs, drain his hold on his soul. He was out of his mind with fear._

_Logically, he knew Azkaban was filled with dementors. But logic had escaped him days ago. Each touch pulled another memory from him, leaving him incomplete and cold._

_He watched as treasured memories of his boyhood and friends were scraped and pulled from his mind, like pieces of thread unwoven from a priceless tapestry. Memories of their romps and escapades swiftly unraveled, leaving him alone with his feelings of despair._

_Once they threw him into his dark cell, he hoped he would get a break from the dementors’ haunting presence. But instead, as soon as the guards’ patronuses were gone, the dementors filled the stale air with their presence, somehow managing to both fill the gaping void and increase its emptiness._

_As he lay on the ground groaning from the beating he’d received and the hangover of the drunken binge that had lasted since he’d found the Potters’ bodies, he felt his mental walls weakening._

_As a member of the Black family, he had long known how to protect himself as an occlumens, but now the shattering wave of guilt and loneliness threatened to completely destroy the strongly built fortress in his mind. Completely destroy him._

_When he finally dared to open his eyes and behold the black void of his cell, all that was clear to his widened, blind eyes were the bodies of James and Lily._

_Their empty eyes staring at him while their voices, gravelly from death and horror questioned him. “Why, Sirius? How could you betray us?”_

_Their eyes began rolling in their heads as they continued their questioning, turning white and blank before him._

_He watched as time sped by and their bodies began to decay before him, their skin turning grey and dry. He listened as their rough voices continued, dragging their anguish out of empty chests and gaping throats._

_Sirius ducked his head and shut his eyes, tears streaming down as he tried to cover his ears and block out his friends’ wasted voices. The pain of the sight ripping out a moan of agony from his throat._

_But he couldn’t block out the vicious growl of the black dog stalking toward the pair. Sirius opened his eyes and watched his worst fear come to life. As his own animagus ripped into the decaying bodies of his best friends, tearing them apart before him, their screams morbidly wrested from their gaping chests as the grim held pieces of their flesh in his mouth._

_“NO!!” Sirius screamed, reaching out to stop it._

Bolting up in bed, Sirius leaned over the side and vomited onto the rug. He watched as tears and sweat joined in a mess that seemed to represent his life - a putrid waste.

His nightmares had made a return ever since Harry had received his Hogwarts letter. Sweet dreams of new life now ravaged by the past and his mistakes.

Sirius extended his shaky hand to grab his wand. He cleaned up the mess and checked the time: _5:05 am_.

Harry was going to Hogwarts today. Sirius sighed and leaned back against the headboard. It was unlikely he would be able to return to sleep this late, so he resigned himself to getting up.

He pushed back his sweat-drenched hair and angrily wiped the tears from his face. Yawning, he blindly walked around his room to put on his robe. Walking through the hall, he paused as he passed Harry’s room, briefly looking in and smiling at the sound of Harry’s snores. The boy had fallen asleep with his wand and a chocolate frog card in hand.

_If only James and Lily could see him_. Sirius’s mind flashed back to his dream of their broken, decayed bodies.

Sobered, Sirius continued to his personal office and settled into an armchair by the window with a glass of firewhisky and a cigarette. He watched the sun slowly rising over the nearby hills, burning away the cool, night fog.

Sirius wished he were going back to Hogwarts on the train to be joined by his best mates, innocent and unaware of the encroaching darkness.

Hearing footfalls, Sirius turned around. There stood James and Lily in the flesh, smiling at him.

Sirius dropped his glass, feeling tears gather in his eyes as he struggled to find his voice.

“Prongs?” He looked down, feeling ashamed as memories of his dream washed over him once again.

James rolled his eyes and walked over, smacking him on the shoulder. Quickly followed by Lily who smacked them both on the head.

Sirius rubbed his head and shoulder, playfully glaring at them both.

“Sirius, it’s not your fault,” Lily smiled at him as she brushed the hair from his eyes. She picked up the glass he had dropped and set it on the table next to him.

“Padfoot, come off it. You were always too dramatic for your own good.” James took the cigarette from Sirius’s hand and took a drag before Lily took the cigarette from him with a glare and snuffed it out.

James blew smoke in her face in retaliation. Sirius chuckled sadly at their playful fighting. He knew this was just another dream. The realization saddened him further and he surreptitiously brushed another tear from his eye.

James set a hand on his shoulder. “Padfoot, my brother. It wasn’t your fault.” He looked over at Lily sadly. “We asked you to be his godfather for a reason. Be our eyes. Watch Harry grow up and give him all of the love and pride that we can’t.”

James took Lily’s hand as they turned around.

Sirius woke with a start, surprised he was able to fall asleep again. He checked the time with his wand: _9:18 am_.

Time to be sure the pup was up, although he had no doubt he already was if he was correctly hearing the stomping going up and down the staircase.

He stood and took one more glance at the bright morning before turning to leave, ignoring the empty glass and snuffed cigarette on his side table.

_Platform 9 3/4, King’s Cross Station, London_

_10:45 am_

Hermione continued to gaze in wonder at the students and families bustling around her, still shocked by the fact that she was finally _here_. Finally off to really live in the Wizarding world. She had arrived over half an hour earlier with her parents, who were now talking to the family of a muggleborn student who was a year above her.

They had already found a compartment and stowed her trunk inside. Now she was simply standing with them and trying to enjoy their company before she left. She had never been away from her parents for more than a few weeks.

Though she was eager to leave, she dreaded not seeing them until the Yule holidays. They had always been her source of comfort and strength; she felt like she was still too young to find those things on her own.

Trying to push away any further melancholic thoughts, she focused on the families and tried to guess the students’ houses.

_That brown-haired boy looks rather lost and alone. Perhaps he’s a Hufflepuff? Members of that house seem to be kind - he could probably use kindness._ _The boy with the slicked back white - no, blonde - hair seems pretty stuck up. I’d bet all of my books he’s in Slytherin_.

She continued to amuse herself as she watched, until she caught site of the shaggy-haired boy from Diagon Alley from her trip a few weeks ago walking with his guardian. He began conversing with the father of the blonde boy; also a stuck up aristocrat with perfect blonde hair. They didn’t seem to notice anyone else around them.

The two boys seemed to be...acquaintances, at best. _Or maybe friends?_ She considered this as she watched them, her nose crinkled in thought.

They’d gone from ignoring each other to talking, to looking like they might throw punches, then to sharing some kind of cards.

_Boys_.

“Hermione!” She quickly turned back to her mum and dad, missing the way the dark-haired man conversing with the blonde aristocrat had taken a passing glance at her, deciding her tilted head and crinkled nose were utterly adorable.

Hermione quickly hugged her parents goodbye, ignoring the tight feeling in her chest as the conductor warned the students that the train was about to leave.

“Bye mum, bye dad,” she whispered, suddenly wishing she weren’t a witch and was going home with them. Back to the comfort of her own bedroom and familiar books.

She did her best to blink her tears away as she boarded the train with the other students, only looking back once to wave goodbye.

A new chapter had begun.

_Hogwarts_

October

“Draco, you’re doing it all wrong. It’s le-vi- _oh_ -sa, not le-vi-oh- _sa_.” Hermione swished and flicked her wand in Professor Flitwick’s class, demonstrating to Draco how to perform the charm correctly.

Draco sneered at her before correcting his pronunciation under his breath. As his feather began to finally rise, Hermione smirked at him.

Draco rolled his eyes and ignored her for the remainder of class, focused on sending his feather into a student’s ear.

After class, as Hermione walked across the school courtyard towards her next one, she heard the boys walking up behind her.

“The boys,” also known as Harry, Draco, Ronald, Neville, and sometimes Theo or other Slytherins, were a popular bunch at the school. Though, to be fair, it seemed to be made up of Harry and Draco plus Harry’s roommates who he didn’t have the heart to turn away.

Hermione wasn’t sure how Harry, the consummate Gryffindor, and Draco, the young Slytherin prince, were at all friends, but she chalked it up to the friendship between their godfather and father.

She’d learned, after being sorted into Gryffindor at the Welcome Feast, that Harry was the godson of Sirius Black, a member of the wizarding aristocracy and of the Wizengamot.

After their run-in at Diagon Alley, she had read all about the war and death of James and Lily Potter from one of her many books purchased at Flourish and Blott’s.

She was confused though that he was being raised by Lord Black. The book hadn’t mentioned anything other than Sirius Black being arrested for the murder of the Potters and the seventeen muggles, in addition to his mysterious pardon.

There was no mention of _who_ was raising Harry.

Although Hermione wasn’t really Harry’s friend, merely a housemate, she couldn’t help her curiosity regarding his godfather.

It seemed odd that a convicted criminal would be allowed to raise a child, no matter that he was _presumed_ innocent - there was, after all, no actual proof of his innocence.

Hermione supposed it must be safe or else Professor Dumbledore and the wizarding aurors wouldn’t allow it.

But she still couldn’t stop the nagging feeling, though, that something more was at play below the surface. She was determined to solve the mystery that was Lord Sirius Black.

As Hermione walked through the courtyard she heard Ronald say something about her lack of friends, buck teeth, and bushy hair. Hermione looked down, wishing she the ground might swallow her up.

She heard Neville try to speak up but Draco spoke over him. “That ugly know-it-all mudblood tried to correct me today in class.”

Hermione stopped and turned to look at them in shock. They stopped once they saw her, Neville’s face turning pink in embarrassment. _As it should_ , she thought. She’d helped him find his toad Trevor on the train.

Harry ran a hand through his hair before shoving Draco’s arm. “Shove off it, Drake. I don’t want to hear you using that word.”

“Whatever.” Draco pushed past Hermione and the rest, returning to the castle.

Hermione waited for an apology as they all stood awkwardly, shifting on their feet and refusing to look at each other. None came.

Fighting tears, Hermione brushed past them and followed Draco back to the castle, turning towards the first floor girls’ lavatory once inside.

Hermione remained in the bathroom for the rest of the day, hiding out in one of the stalls. She sat on the floor by the toilet, staring at the wall of her stall, trying to stop the tears. She read the decades of graffiti and listened as girls came and left, gossiping about everyone else and each other.

She heard some girls crying, other girls mooning over boys. Older girls despairing with their friends over upcoming OWLS and NEWTS.

She wished she had someone. She didn’t want to tell her parents how hard it was at Hogwarts, even worse than regular primary. She didn’t want them to worry about her or to be ashamed that she couldn’t stick it out.

She’d expected to find her own and to finally fit in. Instead she found herself in a place with an unexpected history. A place where she was considered odd for the very things which had made her normal before.

A place where she was only welcomed by some of the teachers and by none of the students. Again.

She didn’t even understand the girls in her dormitory, only that their interests did not align. Hermione did not see the point of trying to preen and “look pretty” when she knew she wasn’t.

Instead, she cultivated her strongest point - her mind. But, once again, this put her at odds with the other students.

She didn’t know how much time had passed since she had hidden in the lavatory, only that the hallways had grown quieter. Perhaps it was evening and she could head back to her room without anyone being the wiser.

As she stood up to leave her stall and rinse off her face, she heard the lavatory door open slowly, followed by the thumping sound of heavy footfalls and something being dragged.

Hermione slowly peeked out of the stall door, waiting for whoever it was to appear. What she saw made her heart begin pounding and her breathing to become distressed.

A twelve foot troll had just entered the girl’s toilets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: brief description of Lily and James’s corpses and Sirius’s animagus form attacking them in a dream sequence


	4. Entrancement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!!!! 
> 
> I couldn’t help myself. Some exciting things will finally happen in this chapter, plus the emergence of a beloved character!!
> 
> Next update will hopefully be this weekend. If not, the following weekend.
> 
> Check out the Pinterest board for the story: https://pin.it/7l2ennW

_Dumbledore’s Office, Hogwarts_

Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Draco sat silently in Dumbledore’s office watching in awe as Lucius Malfoy and Sirius Black ripped into him.

The four students had been rushed to Dumbledore’s office immediately after the troll incident, where Madame Pomfrey fussed over their wounds. The headmaster had floo’d both Lucius Malfoy and Sirius Black, as they were members of the school board, but neglected to floo the Weasleys.

Hermione thought this odd but assumed he would floo them later. In her case, it hardly mattered as her parents could not come to Hogwarts to check on her. A letter would have to do.

The children had watched bemused as the two pureblood aristocrats came into the office with decidedly different mannerisms.

Sirius Black rushed in first, black hair disheveled and a dark cloak thrown over what were clearly a t-shirt and jeans. Hermione and Ron were the only ones seemingly confused at the pureblood’s state of muggle attire and disarray. The others clearly expected this from him, only adding to the mystery that was Sirius Black.

Lucius Malfoy, however, swept in every bit the elite pureblood, gliding into the room with an air of importance and hidden emotions. Even with his stoic facade, Hermione could see the worry lining his face, the lines between his brows and widened eyes sweeping the room to find his son and ascertain his safety.

After Sirius had checked on Harry and determined his well-being, the worry on his face changed to cold contempt as he turned to Dumbledore, hand on Harry’s shoulder. The face and manner that had seemed strangely muggle now took on the aura of pureblood Lord. Lucius too, after getting a glimpse of his son seated quietly with the other students, had turned towards Dumbledore with a cold fury.

“Not only did you some allow a troll access to the school but you have a _three-headed-dog_ living on the third floor?” Sirius looked ready to murder. Fitting, considering his background.

“As director of the board of school governors I should have this school shut down, Albus.” Lucius voiced his anger in a cold, hardened tone. “I have warned you _repeatedly_ -”

“Gentlemen, please, it has been a trying day for all of us and you must know that I have the students’ best interest in mind.” Dumbledore interrupted as he stood angrily behind his desk, ready to fight to protect his reputation.

“How can we trust you to protect our children when you refuse to disclose to parents what is happening at the school?” Hermione saw Professor McGonagall nod slightly at this and raise her eyebrow towards Dumbledore, awaiting his response.

Silence reigned as the men attempted to glare each other down. Sirius Black’s hands were clenched into fists as though he was fighting the urge to either throw punches or pull his wand and attack. Lucius gripped his cane with white knuckles.

Dumbledore, however, had reseated himself and was attempting to control his own anger.

Professor McGonagall sighed, rubbing her forehead before motioning towards Hermione. “Ms. Granger, can you please recount the events of this evening?”

Hermione shifted in her seat, uncomfortable at the sudden focus of such powerful wizards honed in on her and awaiting her story.

Draco looked at her quickly before starting in her stead. “Professor McGonagall,” he sat up straight and looked her in the eye, “it started this afternoon when I called her...” he paused, looking over to Lord Malfoy and Lord Black.

“I called her a word I...I won’t repeat again.”

“Damn right you won’t,” muttered Harry under his breath.

Draco turned to glare at him before Hermione continued the story.

“I ran off to the girls’ lavatory on the first floor to...” Hermione took a deep breath and looked down at her lap, wishing she could disappear.

She didn’t want to appear weak before everyone in the room. “Well, I went there to take a respite from their teasing.”

McGonagall and Lord Black both raised an eyebrow at her phrasing.

“They knew I was in there and came to warn me about the troll during the evening meal.” The three boys looked at each other with uncertainty. They had come to find her but had accidentally locked the troll in the lavatory with Hermione - that was quite clearly something they didn’t want told.

“After the troll entered the lavatory, I was in shock and was nearly hit by his club. Luckily, Draco raced and pushed me to the ground.” Hermione looked up. “He saved my life.”

She heard Lucius Malfoy scoff and saw him turn his face towards the paintings on the wall. Sirius Black continued to watch her with interest, dark eyes locked onto hers as she struggled to find her words.

“The boys then worked together to knock the troll unconscious. They saved me, Professor McGonagall. Without them, I would probably be dead.”

She could hear the boys whispering in relief and confusion and she nudged Harry to shut them up.

She could see Professor McGonagall likely didn’t believe her full story but was too tired and annoyed to push it any further.

“Ms. Granger, boys,” she sighed. “You are free to return to your dormitories. Fifty points will be awarded to Slytherin and one hundred to Gryffindor for the boys’ actions.” McGonagall rolled her eyes as she stood and waved them out.

“Ms. Granger, if you will, please wait for me in the hallway.” Hermione nodded to the older woman before she turned to leave, hearing raised voices once again before the door shut behind her.

She walked out and found the boys in a huddle in the hallway.

“I, um, Hermione,“ started Ronald Weasley, shifting on his feet while he tried to find the words to say.

Draco rolled his eyes before turning to Hermione. “Granger, I’m sorry for what I said to you. It was unmerited.”

“I forgive you,” whispered Hermione as she looked at the uncomfortable trio.

“I guess, well,” started Ron again. “Well, if you hadn’t corrected our charms for us in class then none of us would have made it out of there alive.”

He rubbed his neck before looking up at her. “Thanks, I guess. And sorry. I guess you’re not really all that bad.” Hermione snorted.

Harry looked down at his shoes. “Thanks for not telling McGonagall that we locked you in with the troll first.”

Hermione smirked at him. “Thank you again for saving me.” She twirled a piece of hair around her finger nervously, rather afraid to say what came next.

“If you’d like, I’d be willing to help any of you with your class work. I’ll try to be less..”

“Pushy?”

She laughed at Harry. “Yes, pushy, I suppose.”

They heard the door to Dumbledore’s office open and watched as both Lords Malfoy and Black walked out.

Lucius Malfoy walked over to Draco with a cold face and snagged him by the collar with the head of his cane. He dragged Draco further down the hallway where he began furiously speaking to him in hushed tones.

Sirius Black rushed over to Harry and proceeded to pat him down before pulling him into a gripping hug. He ran his hand through his tousled hair, clearly agitated by the entire ordeal and his inability to fully protect his godson.

Ron and Hermione started to back away to give them space, but Lord Black noticed and stopped them.

He turned to Harry and nodded towards the two. “Pup, can you introduce me to your classmates?”

Harry motioned to them. “Sirius, this is Ron and Hermione.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, waiting for Harry to continue. Harry nervously chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, clearly forgetting what came next.

Hermione mentally rolled her eyes before stepping forward and giving a tiny curtsy. “My name is Hermione Granger, Lord Black.” Looking up, she saw the dark-haired man’s hand extended to her, palm up.

Uncertainly, Hermione placed her hand in his, feeling a blush rising up her neck as he bent over her hand and kissed it. “Enchanted, Ms. Granger.”

Hermione tried to fight the smile that was threatening to appear. She could see his t-shirt and jeans better from close up and noticed his boots were untied. She also noticed he smelled like engine oil. All rather odd for a wealthy, pureblooded wizard.

She could see Ron and Harry in the corner of her eye, watching the interaction with confusion and a little disgust at Hermione’s girlish giggle.

Still holding her small hand, Lord Black asked if her parents were muggle, since he hadn’t seen them in Dumbeldore’s office.

“Yes, they’re dentists,” Hermione whispered shyly, suddenly remembering her buck teeth and frizzy hair as the incredibly attractive, grey-eyed man delicately held onto her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hermione Granger, and I look forward to getting to know you better. I would be grateful if you could help keep _this one_ ” he nodded towards Harry, who laughed nervously and ran a hand through his hair to further muss it up, “in line.”

Hermione nodded, words failing her as Lord Black continued on with his introduction to Ron. She was only twelve, but she had the ability to realize when a person was attractive. This man was _breathtaking_.

He had straight white teeth, something that the daughter of two dentists would certainly notice. Hermione decided he probably had a beautiful smile - she would love to be the one to make him smile. She hoped she might meet him again someday and have that chance.

For all her observation, Hermione hardly noticed as Lord Black, Harry, and Ron took their leave, the boys promising to look for her at breakfast.

Her stomach was full of butterflies. She felt like Jane Eyre meeting Mr. Rochester for the first time, entranced by his dark beauty and mysterious aura.

She also didn’t notice Draco’s head hanging after his father left, waving off the boys to take a walk on his own before punching the wall next to him after he furiously wiped tears off his face.

Hermione started as she heard the door to Dumbledore’s office open and close again and looked up to see Professor McGonagall hurrying over towards her.

Similar to Lord Black’s actions with Harry, she knelt down before Hermione and checked over her for any additional injuries beyond the small scratches covering her hands and face.

“Ms. Granger, dear, are you alright?”

Hermione nodded, still in a bit of a fanciful daze.

McGonagall nodded before leading her back to her office, where she produced hot tea and biscuits for Hermione.

“Ms. Granger, I am sorry that your parents are unable to visit you at Hogwarts. In their absence, however, and for other Gryffindor muggleborn students, I am considered your magical guardian.”

Professor McGonagall sighed as she looked into the small fire in her fireplace, the warmth of the tiny flames managing to burn away the last vestiges of fear remaining from Hermione’s encounter with the troll. She waited for the professor to continue, munching on a biscuit and trying to not leave any crumbs on the old, velvety armchair.

“There are less and less of you attending every year. I fear for what the future may bring.”

Gathering herself, she looked back to Hermione.

“Whatever happens, whatever you need, Ms. Granger, I want you to know you are welcome to come to me, night or day. Even if you simply need someone to talk to; I understand how difficult it is for children of muggles to acclimate to Hogwarts and the wizarding world.”

Hermione nodded, grateful for her professor’s care. It _was_ more difficult than she believed it would be and it was made worse not having the stability and comfort of her parents nearby, in what was essentially a different universe.

~~~~~

Sirius stalked down the hall towards the exit. He knew Hogwarts wasn’t exactly the safest place for children - hell, he’d attended himself! But he’d at least believed things would be better in hand.

At least Professor McGonagall and Snivellus, as much as he hated him, were nearby to provide some manner of reason to the school.

He didn’t understand how Dumbledore had such a tight control over the school’s running yet was so blasé about his students’ safety. _Stay out of the Forbidden Forest and away from the third-floor my arse_. How is such a simple warning going to keep children from wandering?

After the children were dismissed, he and Lucius demanded to know what more Dumbledore was hiding. With great reluctance and an insistent push from McGonagall, Dumbledore finally admitted that the school was hiding the Philosopher’s Stone and that Professor Quirrell might be in league with _You Know Who_.

Sirius thought he would combust on the spot and take the entire school with him.

That fucking _cowardly_ old man. Using bloody children to protect a dangerous artifact and to bait the soul of _Lord Voldemort_?!

He’d wanted to gut him there in his office but knew it would only cause more problems in the end. Much as he wanted Dumbledore dismissed from his post and replaced with McGonagall, he enough dirt on Dumbledore to manipulate the old man into keeping with his own plans - something he didn’t have the heart to do to dear old Minnie.

Sirius and Lucius had used their influence to demand that Dumbledore destroy the stone and have the aurors arrest Quirrell. He could tell that Dumbledore remained hesitant of these ideas, obviously wanting some twisted plan of his to work out for “the greater good.” The man had even made the mistake of mentioning Harry. _Harry_. Sirius would be damned before he’d let anyone use Harry as part of a manipulative greater plan.

When Dumbledore had questioned the arrest of Quirrell, asking smugly who would take his place as DADA professor, McGonagall - bless her - mentioned she had a rather short list of highly qualified candidates, at the top of which was one Remus Lupin.

Lucius had snorted at this, questioning why such a ragtag man should be allowed to teach his son. Sirius warned him with a simple look, at which the older man quieted somewhat. Sirius had become a bit of a leader in their group of purebloods and former death eaters, most of whom were devoted to “the cause” to bring back Voldemort. None of them seemed to trust each other or Sirius, but they believed that Harry Potter might be a key in his return, so they followed Lord Black with only slight hesitance. He was known as a man who would stop at nothing to get his way, ignoring most ethical lines. None of them knew how far he was willing to go over that line of morality, but they believed he might be an asset to their plans.

Dumbledore was clearly upset over the way Sirius was now using him. But Sirius didn’t give a damn and wasn’t going to give the man room to abuse his authority over Harry. When Dumbledore mentioned that the DADA position was rumored to be cursed, Sirius simply told him that he would hire a curse breaker. He’d heard that Bill Weasley was good at his job. After obtaining assurances from Dumbledore and giving a warning that they would be back to check in the next day to oversee the stone’s destruction, the three-headed dog’s removal (Sirius was certain this was probably Hagrid’s pet), and Quirrell’s arrest.

As Sirius and Lucius angrily left the office, Lucius tapping his cane harshly against the stone floor, Sirius couldn’t help a bit of petulance by accidentally knocking over Dumbledore’s bowl of lemon sherbet drops. When Dumbledore looked at him aggrieved, Sirius had simply shrugged a shoulder and walked out.

When Sirius reached the front door of Hogwarts, he paused. He felt uncomfortable leaving Harry here without further protection. Perhaps blood-magic would be the key. There were protection spells detailed in his old family library that might be of help. Sirius couldn’t help but feel thankful for once at his ancestors’ paranoia.

Hearing light footsteps, he turned to find the small girl who had been at the heart of the situation - Hermione Granger. She seemed shy and understated, as if she’d learned long ago to hold herself back in order to fit in. Her ability to lie to the headmaster under pressure, however, impressed Sirius.

He called out her name and walked over to her as she paused near the doors. He took in her wild curls, big brown eyes, and small buck teeth. Sirius thought she was absolutely adorable and couldn’t imagine why the boys had been so cruel to her before. She wasn’t of any particular beauty, but then, the girl was only a first year. He’d known girls like her who grew up into their own. He couldn’t help but imagine she would do the same.

“Good evening, Lord Black,” she curtsied crookedly again, a light blush softly painting her cheeks.

“Ms. Granger, there is no need for such formalities,” Sirius assured her as he gently lifted up her chin before quickly placing his hands behind his back. _She’s eleven, Padfoot!_

“I believe that you are acquainted with my godson, Harry?”

She nodded hesitantly, wanting to say something but stopping herself.

“Has Harry bullied you at all? Is he friendly?” Sirius frowned, he hadn’t raised Harry to be a bully and would be speaking with him the next day.

“No! Of course not, Lord Black. He’s been quite kind to me,” Hermione grinned, “I believe we are all to have breakfast together and I’ve offered to help him with class work.”

Sirius’s head fell back as he barked a laugh into the evening air.

“I am deeply grateful to you, Ms. Granger. It is hard for him to focus on anything other than Quidditch.” Hermione nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“Harry is very loyal to his friends and the people he trusts. I have every confidence that he will be a loyal friend to you.”

Sirius was entranced by the young girl and hoped she would become friends with Harry - he believed the two could have a strong friendship, especially since Harry had not grown up with any siblings.

“I would like to ask of you a favor, Ms. Granger.”

Hermione looked inquisitively at him with a tilted head. “What is the favor?”

“Keep an eye on Harry for me. There are people who might try to...use him for his fame, and I just want him to have a normal and happy childhood.” Sirius didn’t need the girl to completely devote herself to Harry, and he doubted she could do much to truly protect the boy against a fully grown witch or wizard, but the loyalty of a good friend was invaluable to a person’s well-being.

Hermione considered his request and then smiled at him, holding out her hand to shake. Sirius smiled in amusement, taking her hand and giving it a hearty shake before once again placing a light kiss on the back. He had seen her blush and stutter before, he couldn’t help but rile her up now.

“Thank you, kitten.” Sirius smirked at her shocked face and left her in the hallway as he turned out into the night.


End file.
